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We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves And spend our flatteries to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again With poisonous spite and envy.
William Shakespeare
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William Shakespeare
Age: 51 †
Born: 1564
Born: April 26
Died: 1616
Died: April 23
Actor
Dramaturge
Playwright
Poet
Stage Actor
Writer
Stratford-upon-Avon
Warwickshire
Shakespeare
The Bard
The Bard of Avon
William Shakspere
Swan of Avon
Bard of Avon
Shakespere
Shakespear
Shakspeare
Shackspeare
William Shake‐ſpeare
Fool
Poisonous
Drink
Flattery
Age
Fools
Upon
Void
Make
Spite
Men
Envy
Whose
Spend
Flatteries
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But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike.
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It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught as men take diseases, one of another.
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Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway, meeting the check of such another day.
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Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come make her laugh at that.
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Thou call'st me dog before thou hadst a cause, But since I am a dog, beware my fangs.
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Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound And through this distemperature we see The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.
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Be bloody, bold, and resolute laugh to scorn the power of man.
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To take arms against a sea of troubles.
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None can cure their harms by wailing them.
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Sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.
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Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him.
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You speak an infinite deal of nothing.
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Minutes, hours, days, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this!
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Fruits that blossom first will first be ripe.
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Mercutio: If love be rough with you, be rough with love.
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Good wombs have borne bad sons. -- (Miranda, I:2)
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For many men that stumble at the threshold are well foretold that danger lurks within.
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I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster!
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The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow We are such stuff as dreams are made of.
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A woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart.
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